A New Start
by Sorella-Aine
Summary: Just a one-shot, set a couple months post-finale.


I dug cookie dough out of the bowl with my fingers and ate it while I watched the kitchen timer finish counting down. I really_ did_ want to bake cookies...for _me_, that is. I had a nearly constant craving for sugar, and these chocolate cookies with peanut butter chips I saw on pinterest earlier looked soooo satisfying. It was just a happy coincidence that I'd be carrying some over to my neighbor once they cooled. I mean, one girl can't eat two dozen cookies by herself, now can she?

But truthfully, as delicious as these cookies looked, I knew it was a flimsy excuse to see him. And that's what scared me. As if I hadn't seen him enough at work!

Ben and I had finally achieved a state of friendly neighborliness. I was initially infuriated to find I'd been duped. Duped into renting the perfect apartment, that is. It had taken of couple months of cooled interactions between us, but I'd eventually gotten over it. Having a lovely terrace and a more than willing chauffeur helped. I never expected to get back to our previous levels of flirty banter, though, and I certainly never would have thought I'd be baking things for the guy. He surprises me, but he makes me surprise myself even more.

Armed with the pretense of chocolatey goodness, I knocked. And waited. And knocked again. As the door opened, I could hear the sounds of conversation and the tv blaring. Ben greeted me with a bottle of Old Rasputin stout in one hand and a slightly tipsy grin. My confusion must have been plainly written across my face, because he provided an explanation before I asked for one. "A's are playing Houston. Want to join us?" Eying the plate of cookies, he broke into a genuine smile and opened the door a little wider. "You will be more than welcome, I promise."

In my short time as Ben's neighbor, I hadn't been privy to any boys' nights. As a matter of fact, he hadn't entertained any guests at all that I'd noticed...not that I'd really been paying close attention. Okay, that's a lie. I was curious, and this is an old building so the walls are pretty thin...but in the past two months I'd taken no notice of poker nights, dinner parties, or any other, uh, guests.

I followed Ben to join the six guys crowded around the tv. "This is Kate, everybody! She brought cookies." A half dozen appreciative smiles and mumbled thanks hit me at once, and one guy (his name is Lamar, I learned during a commercial break) scooted over the make a space for me in the middle of the couch. Before I realized he'd left me, Ben returned to hand me a glass of red wine and squeeze in next to me. I inhaled and took a sip. Pinot noir. Yum. Yeah, he knows me.

I'm not a big fan of the A's- I'm a Giants girl, just like my dad raised me- but it's pretty easy to hate the Astros, and these guys were vocal and fun to watch a game with. I suppose at some point I leaned back into the couch and got comfy, never noticing that Ben had stretched an arm out there. Lamar sure noticed, though.

As soon as the game appeared to be a lock, our closeness elicited some questions. "So, Kate," Lamar began. "How do you and Ben know-"

"You two dating?" interrupted Mark, an estate lawyer Ben knew from law school. _Damn, Mark. Don't beat around the bush. _ I felt myself blush slightly for some reason. "Um..." _Dammit, Kate, just answer the question!_

"No," Ben chipped in, turning to exchange awkward smiles with me. "Just...friends."

I think Ben endured some playful teasing, but I tuned it out by going for more wine. Once the game finished, I stayed behind to help clean up. This involved lots of careful maneuvering around the kitchen. Mark's blunt line of questioning had affected my already troubled mind (and libido, if I'm being truthful). Why _weren't_ we dating? He liked me, didn't he? And I, well, I hadn't exactly shut him down, had I? Unless he just really enjoyed witty repartee, I was pretty sure all we ever did at work was flirt. In any case, every time he brushed against me in his kitchen, I flinched a little bit. And I could sense his nervousness if I got too close to him. Mark, what have you done?!

The next day, I persuaded Ben to help me get some unsolved answers on a case. He drove me around, but "only so I can watch your conspiracy theory unravel before you. This is better than an episode of 'Psych.'" Jerk.

Unfortunately, he was right. Leaving a client's place of business after a disappointing outcome, I was pretty crushed. But Ben was trying his best to cheer me up, bless him. Gently rubbing my back in consolation, he moved to walk ahead of me to the car. "Wait!" I blurted out.

He turned to face me and before I knew what I was doing, I planted my hands on his lapels and gazed up at him. I was frozen.

Ben looked at me expectantly, but I just muttered "nevermind." Then, as he turned away, I grabbed him. Rising up on my tiptoes, I kissed him, oh-so-briefly. As we parted, I saw confusion on Ben's face. _ Oh, I'm in trouble_. I turned to go, but he quietly said "no," grabbing me and kissing me forcefully. I surrendered happily. _Yes. This is what I wanted, what I've wanted since Tahoe, since our first frenzied kiss at the elevator, since we met. _Oblivious to any passersby, our hands were everywhere; we were lost in this kiss. His hands were on my hips, in my hair, cupping my face, somehow all at once. _God. Yes. This is what I want. _

"Kate!" Ben pulled away, and I register shock on his face. I noted the placement of my hands: just below the belt buckle. _Oh no. OH NO!_ I got handsy. That's what two months of no sex and a hot next-door neighbor will do to you. No boundaries. Or sense of decency.

I could feel my face turning bright red, and I covered my face with my hands. "Oh my God, I'm sorry."

"We're in public!"

I looked at him over my hands and I saw that he was more amused than anything else.

"I know," I said playfully, moving in the direction of his car. "And you haven't even bought me dinner yet."

"Not for lack of trying," he retorted.

I pondered this as we got into the Vantage. When we had spent half the trip back to the office in silence, I turned to him. "Seven o'clock," I said. That's all.

He smiled without taking his eyes off the road. "Seven it is."

I left work early to get ready and give myself some time alone with my thoughts. At 6:15, Ben was at my door. I answered the door in my terrycloth robe with damp hair and a bad attitude. I wouldn't let him in.

He looked hopeful, but his awkwardness became increasingly apparent as he stood there. "The last time we tried this, it didn't exactly work out so well...so I just wanted to make sure you weren't feeling pressured or stressed..."

Without thinking, I pinched his arm. "What's wrong with you?!" I shouted.

"What the hell, Katie?" he exclaimed, clutching his arm in pain.

"Don't you _want_ to go out with me?" His grimace was my only response. "Well then why are you second-guessing me?"

I noticed he was still holding the afflicted arm and pouting. He could probably feel it turning blue. I realized I was mirroring him, sticking out my own lower lip. "I didn't mean to pinch you so hard," I offered as a bashful apology.

He just smiled. "See you at seven."

I bit my lip as I watched him turn to his own apartment. "Are you wearing that?" I asked seriously, eying his blue shirt, busy paisley tie, and matching goldenrod pocket square. I chewed on my lower lip as I contemplated my own wardrobe choices.

He smirked. "Are_ you_ wearing _that_?" he asked, gesturing to my pink robe. I rolled my eyes and shut the door.

I needn't have worried. I guess Ben assumed I'd go with something colorful, because when he came by forty-five minutes later, he was wearing a silvery gray shirt and a plain white pocket square. I'd selected a fuchsia cocktail dress. It had a lace bodice with short sleeves, a cut-out in the back, and a tight skirt in a shiny fabric. It was a little dressier than I'd normally do for a first date, but then this was Ben I was going out with.

Dinner was so much more fun than I ever remembered a date being. I didn't want the night to end. Outside the restaurant, I suggested a walk- something, _anything_, to put off the inevitable awkward end to the evening.

"There a pub down this way that usually has some acoustic rock on Fridays. We're a little overdressed, but we could go there," he suggested.

I agreed to the plan and we started making our own down the street, when I got distracted by the sounds of some other music. "Ben, do you hear that?" Without waiting for a reply, I grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him down an alley, my hand smoothly slipping down to clasp his hand.

A small neon sign beckoned us to a small flight of steps leading down to the unmistakable sounds of jazz. "Katie, I think you've found a speakeasy." I beamed up at him. "Care to do a little time traveling tonight?"

No password was necessary, but this jazz club was packed. Inside, I waited near the crowded bar while Ben procured drinks. A gorgeous woman with shampoo-commerical raven hair sidled up to me. "You should be careful. He's a womanizer," she said, nodding in Ben's direction.

_Interesting_. I feigned shock. "Who, Benny?! I sincerely doubt that."

At just that moment, the alleged womanizer returned, handing me my drink and nodding curtly at my would-be savior.

"Hello, Ben."

"Goodbye, Lydia," he said, leading me to a bistro table without looking back.

I took a seat, but Ben remained standing, placing a hand on the back on my chair- a possessive gesture, no doubt, but it didn't bother me. His standing did, however, because it meant he still had about half a foot on me. So like him. He just always has to have the upper hand. I decided to bring him down a bit.

"Who was that? A disgruntled ex?"

"Not exactly."

"Opposing counsel conquest?"

He looked askance. "How...?"

"You have quite the reputation."

He frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You know..." I trailed off and raised an eyebrow suggestively.

"Are you calling me a slut?" he asked, with the slightest hint of a laugh.

"I did not use that word," I replied coyly. For a second I though he actually looked disappointed. "Oh, come on, I'm just joking."

"Yeah, but at my expense," he frowned. Ah, that Ben Grogan pout. So hard to tell if it's meant seriously or jokingly.

I looked at him and explained patiently, "_most_ of my jokes are at your expense."

"Touche," he responded, lifting his glass at me before taking a sip.

"Why gin and tonic?"

"Every man should have a signature drink. This is mine," he replied enigmatically. "Want a sip?"

"No thanks," I said, clasping my Macallan, neat, a little closer to me. "And why Plymouth gin? Is it the most expensive?"

"It's not, actually. That would be Nolet's. I just think it tastes the best. Less floral, more fruity."

"I'm pleasantly surprised by that answer. Although, in a place like this, I'd expect the gin to be of the bathtub variety."

He smirked at this. "I'm not going to make any complaints about lack of authenticity in that department."

He pretended to watch the band for a bit, but I felt his eyes on me as I sipped my scotch. "Would you dance with me?" I ventured, expecting a 'no.'

"Of course I will, Katie." I barely had a second to set my drink down before he spun me out onto the dance floor. "Oh, you're pretty good at this!" I told him, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice. "When Ju-" I stopped myself.

"What?" Ben asked.

I looked down at my feet. "Nevermind."

But Ben is nothing if not persistent. "No! What?"

"It involved Justin..."

"So? Kate, I'm aware you're divorced. We know a lot about each other." I shivered as I realized he was right. Even before moving in next door, there were really no secrets between us, save our feelings for each other. And that secret was quickly disintegrating tonight.

"I don't want to bring him up on our date, though." _Whew. I called it a date. And I didn't swallow the word or stutter it. Progress! So proud of myself!_

"Tell me your story," he invited with a smile. I loosened up at this. What the hell.

I told him about taking dance lessons before the wedding. It was something that I thought would be fun, but Justin was reluctant from the beginning. "I suppose it should have been a warning sign. Not only was it decidedly not fun, he was totally incapable of taking it seriously."

Ben just smiled, a self-satisfied smirk if ever I saw one. When he finally spoke, I had to roll my eyes. "As long as you're comparing me favorably, I have no problem whatsoever with you bringing Justin up around me." Typical Ben.

As the music segued into a moody, slow rhythm, his hand on my waist dipped a little bit lower to my hip. The hand that had been clutching mine moved to lift my chin, and his eyes rested on my lips for a moment. Just as I was preparing myself for a kiss, Ben appeared to think better of it, moving his hand across my cheek to brush my hair away from my face. Slightly confused and disappointed, I pressed my face to his jacket so he couldn't read my expression. I looped an arm under his and rested my hand on his shoulder. Ben followed suit, tightening our embrace while gently swaying us to the music. I felt a light pressure on my exposed back as he twirled his fingers around the curls in my hair. The action made me smile in spite of myself. He'd once teased me, saying he could predict my behavior based on how I wore my hair. If my hair is straight, he claimed, the day will run smoothly. Curly, however, means another day of Crazy Kate's Fun with Conspiracy Theories.

He wasn't completely off-base. Wearing my hair curly usually indicated that I was knee-deep in a complicated case, and I'd chosen to spend the twenty minutes it takes for a blow-out on extra sleep or extra work.

Well, it was curly tonight. I guess I'd have to show him something crazy.

I was shaken out of my memories by the thud beneath my ear. His heartbeat was wildly out of time with the slow song we were dancing to...and then I noticed that while we were still holding each other, we'd given up any pretense of dancing. I slid my hand off his shoulder and under his arm, resting it over his madly beating heart. He regarded me silently, moving to place one hand over mine. I knew he wanted to ask me something, but I was overtaken suddenly by my own heart, drumming insistently in my ears. It's all I could hear.

"I'm tired. Are you ready to go?" I felt my lips form the words, but I couldn't hear them. Ben assented with a nod; thankfully, the blood pumping hadn't affected my vision.

On the drive home, all sound was drowned out by my own heartbeat. I imagined I was hearing his, too, so lost I was in my feelings. The night had gone by in a blur. Seemingly only seconds passed before we were home, then holding hands affectionately in the elevator. As the elevator doors opened on our floor, everything grew quiet for me, like the calm before a storm.

Standing still in the middle of our two doors, holding hands, we were unwilling to break apart or face the awkward next move. We began to speak simultaneously. He smiled at me sheepishly.

"You go first," I said, grinning.

"I was going to invite you in for a drink."

I looked at him intently for a moment and smiled coolly. "I was going to ask you over for sex." My brave face slipped, and I could feel the faint blush creeping over my face, and he was incapable of hiding his pleasure and amusement.

"Yours sounds better," Ben replied, trying to hold back a smile.

"It does, doesn't it?" I said, and brought my keys out of my purse. As I moved to unlock the door, Ben took advantage of all that my invitation implied; he rested one hand at the base of my spine and ran the other along the curve of my hip. His lips began to trace a line up the side of my neck to my ear. His affect on me was palpable: I shook, I fumbled, I just could not unlock the door. "Ben, stop touching me," I pleaded, breathless.

He moved away just long enough for me to get into my apartment. Once in the door, though, he was all over me. His hands tangled in my hair as he pulled me into a searing kiss. I helped him shrug out of his jacket, tossing it over the plastic hand chair I kept for laughs. He gripped my hips with a force that surprised me, and then his right hand wandered over my ass, eventually skimming the hem of my skirt. My hands flew to unbutton his shirt, and we continued kissing. I had never experienced a kiss quite like this. Never ending. Hungry.

But for a split second, I was reminded of our first kiss- the frantic energy, the passion I didn't know was there- and then I realized how much he must have wanted me all this time and how long I'd been denying both of us. Did I have a reason for putting this off?

Ben's hands were pushing my skirt up, the material bunching up tightly around my thighs. It's with a reluctant whimper that I came up for air. "Are we moving too fast?" I had to ask to settle my troubled mind, even though my pleading tone begged him to say no.

I felt his eyes boring into mine in the dark. After what felt like an interminable pause, he said "No. I've been waiting for this for a very long time." With that, he picked me up and spun me around, my legs instantly hooking around him. We both laughed. And for the first time in a long while, I experienced joy.


End file.
